


meet me in the (conversation) pit

by 5ftjewishcactus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1970s, 70s Decorating, Alcohol, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Conversations, Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), Crowley's Moustache (Good Omens), Dancing, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Making Out, No Sex, No Smut, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ftjewishcactus/pseuds/5ftjewishcactus
Summary: Following the success of his redesign of the M25, Crowley finds himself in a disco club having a great time. When Aziraphale shows up, the night takes a surprising turn that neither of them expect but cherish for years to come.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens, Stayin' Julive - The Tony Month Collection





	meet me in the (conversation) pit

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my entries for GO Tony Month because '70s Tony deserves some love.

Demons were not good dancers. Crowley didn’t particularly care if the dancing was good or not. He was just having fun. He’d had a few drinks, the music was good, the crowd at this particular bar even better. Disco playing over the speakers. Crowley was in his element. Or one of them, at least. It was two weeks after he’d successfully swapped around some markers for the design of the M25 and presented his newest chaos creation. And alright, Hastur had asked his stupid question about computers and no one had given him a wahoo but Crowley could still throw himself a party. And he did.

For once, things were good. Aziraphale had given him his requested Holy Water back in ‘67 and asked for space at the same time, which Crowley was giving him. They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since that night. And Crowley was mostly fine with that. He periodically drove by the bookshop, spotted Aziraphale inside reading or staring down customers. It was fine. Totally fine.

Crowley made his way back over to the bar and ordered another drink. Another of his favorite things, the alcohol in the current century was decidedly better than anything that had come before. It seemed humans liked finding better and better ways to consume alcohol. Crowley was all for it, especially if it meant he could numb himself to some of his less enjoyable feelings. Feelings like… loneliness. He missed Aziraphale. Which was ridiculous because he was right there, in his book like he always was and always had been since 1800. He downed his drink of whiskey and ordered another, while he blinked the tears from his eyes. He would not cry. Not here, with disco music playing around him.

He drank his alcohol and once he felt more himself, made his way back towards the dance floor. As he walked, he spotted a flash of something familiar, fluffy white hair that glowed in the sunlight. Except it was glowing in the flashing lights of the disco ball. Crowley stopped where he was and blinked his eyes again. No, he wasn’t seeing things. That was Aziraphale. In a disco club.

While Crowley’s brain was catching up with him, Aziraphale turned and spotted him, a smile on his face.

“Crowley,” the angel said with a grin, as he walked up to Crowley.

“Angel, what’re you doing here?” Crowley tried very hard to sound as cool and aloof as he’d been trying to be before the angel had shown up.

“Oh, well… would you believe, I have an assignment.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow at that. “Here?”

Aziraphale wrung his hands together. “Yes, I’m afraid. Someone I’m meant to influence. I suppose you’re here to tempt someone.”

The demon shook his head. “Nah. Here on my own, for fun. Disco.” He pointed towards the bright, flashing ball above the dance floor. “Totally a demon’s scene.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose it is. Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale gave him a tight smile and made his way past Crowley and towards a small crowd gathered near the dance floor. Crowley sighed, his shoulders sagging. He contemplated getting another drink but no, he’d already been headed to the dance floor and he’d told the angel he was here for fun. He didn’t want to appear… weak in front of his oldest friend. His only friend. He made his way onto the dance floor and began to dance with the other people, the humans, dancing along to the disco beat. He didn’t pay attention to what song was playing, it wouldn't matter anyway. Demon dancing and all that. Just let his body follow whatever rhythm it decided to follow.

After one song shifted into another, he glanced around the club. He couldn’t help it, he knew Aziraphale was there, it was hard to not look, to not see what the angel was up to. What he found was Aziraphale watching him. The angel was leaning against one of the tall, standing tables by the crowd he’d moved to earlier. But his focus was entirely on Crowley. A shiver went through Crowley as he continued to dance, eyes locked on Aziraphale’s. Even with his shades on, he knew Aziraphale knew he was looking at him. As he moved, Aziraphale licked his lips, and one of his hands stroked the outside of his thigh, palm flat against the fabric of his trousers. Crowley took a deep breath through his nose, swallowing hard as he made the choice to move towards the angel.

He motioned for Aziraphale to join him, not in a “come hither” sort of way, more in a “come have fun with me” sort of way. Aziraphale shook his head, biting his lip. But his eyes never left Crowley. He continued to dance, something about knowing Aziraphale was watching him making it easier to just let go, follow the music and the rhythm, and the bodies around him. Sometimes he would spin and twirl and shimmy to the music. No matter what he did, Aziraphale never stopped watching. It reminded Crowley of the times they’d gone to lunch or dinner together. Oysters in Rome. Crepes in Paris. Aziraphale enjoying food. Crowley watching him, watching the way he enjoyed every bite and morsel.

As the music began to change into another song, Crowley swaggered his way over to Aziraphale and leaned casually against the table.

“Wanna get a drink?” he asked. “Not here. Somewhere else. My place, perhaps?”

And where had that courage come from? Crowley wasn’t going to look too closely at it, least it decided to run away before he got the angel back to his. Wouldn’t be the first time they’d met up for drinks, though usually, they’d go to the bookshop. They could do that, too, if Aziraphale wanted. All Crowley truly wanted was to get out of there, go somewhere else, anywhere else, as long as Aziraphale went with him.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, releasing a shuddering breath. “Yes. I…” A swallow. “I think I’d like that.”

Crowley nodded, too afraid to speak. He stood and began to walk towards the exit, only glancing to make sure Aziraphale was following him. They made it out the door and the cool night air hit Crowley, causing him to shiver again. Goosebumps formed across his chest, where it was exposed at the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, his sparse chest hair doing little to guard against the cold.

“The Bentley’s parked around the corner,” he said, clenching his hands into fists to keep from wrapping his arms around himself.

They walked in silence. Aziraphale fell into step beside him. When they reached the Bentley, Crowley opened the door for Aziraphale.

“Oh, thank you.”

Crowley shrugged and closed the door. Made his way around to his side and slid in. Started the car and turned on the heater. The radio turned on and played a song that Crowley didn’t quite recognize but had a suspicion it was the same band the Bentley had been playing on and off for the last week.[1] Aziraphale didn’t comment and Crowley wondered how often he was subjected to modern music.

They stayed quiet as Crowley drove them towards his flat in Mayfair. He’d lived there for years by this point. The only things that changed were the humans who ran the building and lived around him. The ones now weren’t the same ones that he’d lived around in 1941. They’d all either moved out or passed away. When Aziraphale had decided to set up a bookshop in London, make his home in London, Crowley had to make his own there too. Told himself he had to stay close for the Arrangement. But he knew it was really that he wanted to stay close to the angel.

The lift took them up to Crowley’s floor and as they headed down the hall, it occurred to Crowley that Aziraphale had never been here. He’d gone all-in on the current fashion and decoration trends and his flat was going to be a shock to someone like Aziraphale, who wasn’t used to the colors of the 70s.

Crowley unlocked the door and opened it, to reveal the entryway, which was covered in bright orange shag carpet. As was the rest of his flat. The walls were white and bright and made the room seem so much brighter despite the low lighting that Crowley had. As they entered the living room, he turned on another light to reveal the seating area. Bright orange couches were sunken into the floor, positioned in a circle. There was a table in the center of the conversation pit, an olive green color on the top and silver metal on the sides and legs. Off to the side was a Papasan chair in a yellow-green shade. Tan and brown macramé decor hung on the walls.

“It’s… very colorful,” Aziraphale said, as he looked around the room.

“Eh, yeah, I suppose.” Crowley shrugged, taking off his sunglasses. “I have wine. Or something stronger, if you’d prefer?”

“Wine will be fine.”

Crowley nodded and headed into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle out of his cupboard and two glasses. When he returned to the living room, Aziraphale was staring down into the conversation pit.

“Not quite sure how to… get down,” he said, looking at Crowley.

Crowley, with his long, gangly limbs, was used to climbing into and out of the conversation pit. He hadn’t thought to install stairs, so of course, the angel was staring at it uncertain if he should just… step on the couch cushions.

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

Crowley walked over and stepped down, onto one of the orange couches and set the wine and glasses down on the table. He turned and held his hand out to Aziraphale, who took it and gently stepped down into the pit with him.

“There, all set.”

Crowley turned back to the table and went about pouring their drinks. He handed a glass to Aziraphale and moved to sit near him. Not next to him, though the circular seating did lend itself to sitting close.

“I… I’ve missed you,” Aziraphale said, after taking a sip of his wine.

Crowley ducked his head. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I appreciate that you gave me space, after…” Aziraphale paused, frowning.

“Of course, angel. Anything for you.”

Aziraphale nodded. “It was needed, at the time. But… I am glad to see you again.”

Crowley nodded and took a sip of his wine. Aziraphale sipped his. Silence settled over them.

“Do you go dancing very often?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shook his head and shrugged. “Not really. Well, I suppose I have more lately. Disco’s good for it. Demons aren’t good dancers.”

“Oh, I would say you’re a very good dancer. You certainly appeared to be enjoying yourself and I think that’s important.”

“Yeah? Even though you wouldn’t dance with me?”

“Oh, I… I couldn’t possibly dance with you, Crowley. I wouldn’t move nearly as gracefully as you.”

Crowley laughed. “I am anything but graceful.”

“Oh, but you are. The way your body moved and contorted.”

The demon blushed. Aziraphale was looking at him the same way he had back at the club. His eyes sparkled with his excitement as he spoke.

“It looked like fun. I wish… I wish I could’ve joined you. But… angels don’t really dance.”

“I bet you could if you wanted to.”

Aziraphale looked down and nodded. “I suppose if I had the right partner.”

“Right partner. Yeah. Makes sense.” Crowley understood what Aziraphale meant. That Crowley wasn’t the right partner. Not for dancing. Not for… Not for him. He ducked his head, momentarily wishing he was still wearing his sunglasses.

“Oh. Oh, Crowley, no.” Aziraphale looked up at him. “I meant… when you were still sleeping, before… our fight, I joined a discreet gentleman’s club. I learned the gavotte. It was quite fun. But it’s fallen out of fashion I’ve had no one to dance it with and I’m afraid I don’t dance otherwise.”

Crowley set his wine glass down and stood up, one hand outstretched to Aziraphale. “Dance with me.”

“Crowley—”

Crowley shook his head. “No. Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

Aziraphale nodded, set his own glass down, and held Crowley’s hand. As he pulled Aziraphale to his feet, he snapped his fingers on his other hand. Disco music began to play from the record player across the room. Still holding Aziraphale’s hand, Crowley moved them a few steps back, away from the table so they’d have more room. He then began to dance to the music. He let the music determine his movements, just like he had at the club earlier. Aziraphale watched him, his eyes following Crowley’s movements. Crowley held Aziraphale’s other hand and tried to coax him into moving with him.

“Angel.”

Aziraphale nodded again. Slowly he began to move with Crowley, mostly copying Crowley’s movements but Crowley considered it a win. Given the circumstances. He let himself give into the music, moving and swaying and shimming to the beat. He continued to coax Aziraphale to follow along and the angel did, still a little tense but smiling as he watched. Crowley did a sort of wiggling shimmy with his hips and Aziraphale laughed.

“Oh, Crowley,” he said, face light up in a great big grin.

He moved closer to Crowley and reached up to gently cup Crowley’s cheek, his thumb brushing along the edge of Crowley’s mustache.

“D’ya like it?”

Aziraphale’s eyes and thumb traced along it. “I almost miss your goatee.”

“You hated the goatee.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

“No?”

“I hated how badly I wanted to kiss you.”

Crowley’s eyes widened and he licked his lips. “You could kiss me no—”

He didn’t even finish the word because Aziraphale leaned in and kissed him. It was gentle at first, timid almost, but as Crowley began to kiss back, it deepened. Aziraphale’s lips were soft and tasted faintly of the wine they’d been drinking. Crowley deepened the kiss, fingers tangling into Aziraphale’s curls. His other hand moved to Aziraphale’s waist, pulling the angel closer to him. He’d imagined kissing Aziraphale many times over their long history. Wondered idly what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his lips against his own. To taste him and hold him. Crowley never thought he’d get this. Never thought Aziraphale felt that way. Not until he’d shown up in Crowley’s car with holy water. And even then, Crowley hadn’t expected this. To be holding Aziraphale in his arms. Kissing him as if his life depended on it, so soon.

Aziraphale was the first to pull away, but he didn’t go far. He sighed as he rested his forehead against Crowley’s. The demon didn’t speak, too afraid to say anything that might shatter whatever was happening between them.

“I definitely like the mustache,” Aziraphale said, finally breaking the silence between them.

Crowley laughed. “Oh, you bastard.”

Aziraphale chuckled and smiled. “I definitely like the demon it’s attached to more.”

Crowley nodded, unable to verbalize his own feelings. His heart beat heavily in his chest.

He swallowed and forced his tongue to function. “Angel.”

“I know, my dear. I know.”

Aziraphale’s hand still cupping his cheek shifted, as he reached up with his thumb to wipe away tears. Crowley sniffled, hadn’t realized he was crying.

“Come here.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley over to the cushions they’d been sitting on before and wrapped his arms around him, as Crowley curled against him. His night had taken a turn and Crowley wasn’t sure what to do about that. Not when Aziraphale was holding him, one hand stroking through his hair while the other rubbed his back. It wasn’t a complete one-eighty of his night. He’d been celebrating. Demonic activity but still. In a way, there was still a celebration to be had here, even while he cried in his angel’s arms. His angel. Aziraphale had kissed him. And had practically admitted to sharing Crowley’s feelings. It was a lot for Crowley. He’d been carrying his feelings for eons now. A part of him had always hoped that maybe there was a chance Aziraphale might feel the same. But to know. Oh, to know he felt the same, even if neither of them could vocalize those feelings just yet. The beating of his heart continued to echo in his ears.

Eventually, he pulled himself together and sat up, rubbing his hands over his eyes to shove away the last of the tears.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley nodded. “Yeah. I… thank you, angel.”

“Of course.”

Crowley shifted to sit next to Aziraphale properly instead of partially in his lap. He reached forward and grabbed his wine glass off the little round table and took a long drink. Aziraphale continued to watch him.

“Everything alright, angel?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t stare, but…” Aziraphale looked away and moved to grab his own glass. He took a sip and stared into his glass. “I really did miss you, Crowley. More than… more than I thought I would. More than I did after our fight in 1862.”

Crowley ran his finger around the rim of his wine glass. “They say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“They do, don’t they?”

“A hundred years vs ten years. Must be doing something…” He paused before saying the word “right” as he remembered their first conversation. The rights and the wrongs both had potentially committed, way back when. He didn’t want to risk Aziraphale saying “wrong” for what was between them. How could what he felt for Aziraphale be wrong at all? Even the Almighty couldn’t possibly call that wrong.

Aziraphale must have sensed Crowley’s inner turmoil, as he reached over and gently stilled Crowley’s hand.

“Something right?” he supplied.

Crowley nodded.

“We also have so much more at stake now.” He shifted to hold Crowley’s hand, their fingers intertwined. “Do you know why I gave you the holy water?” He paused a moment and then continued once Crowley shook his head. “Because I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you. To your foolish heist idea or to anyone else who might try to take you away.” He lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Crowley’s hand. “My dear.”

“Angel.”

Crowley leaned in and their lips met once more. There was something desperate and needy in the kiss. Both of them clinging to each other, trying to convey all the things they couldn’t yet put into words. Crowley dropped his wine glass so he could hold Aziraphale with both hands. Aziraphale’s glass disappeared as he held just as firmly to Crowley. The demon’s heart hurt, a deep ache, as he realized that he couldn’t have this past tonight. The holy water in the safe was the truth of their situation. If they tried to keep this going, surely Heaven and Hell would find out. Would come for them. And even though their friendship, the Arrangement, was a risk in itself, this was… this was too precious to lose. The desperate way Aziraphale’s lips moved against Crowley’s showcased that they understood that too. This wasn’t the beginning Crowley had dreamed about in his most lonely nights.

“Stay,” he said, against Aziraphale’s lip, eyes closed as tears threatened to spill. “Just for tonight.”

Aziraphale looked at him, eyes searching him. For once, Crowley was glad he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. Let Aziraphale see his eyes, their golden yellow snake slits looking at him with only love and need. The angel nodded.

“For tonight.”

Crowley nodded and a tear slid down his cheek. Aziraphale reached up and brushed it away, even as Crowley leaned into his touch. The angel’s eyes shone with unshed tears and the smile he gave didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not like the smiles he’d given Crowley earlier. They both knew that this moment between them was slowly slipping away. Crowley pulled Aziraphale to him and wrapped his arms around him. He needed Aziraphale close. Needed to feel him in his arms. Commit it to memory. One day, one day they would be free and they could have this for more than a night.

He tucked his face against Aziraphale’s neck and breathed in the familiar scent of old books and dust. Aziraphale’s arms held him close, too, one hand curling into Crowley’s hair while the other held firmly to his lower back. Crowley would cherish the feel of Aziraphale’s soft, round body in his arms. The way the angel fit so perfectly against him. These would be the things Crowley would hold onto when all he could do was stand or sit next to Aziraphale without touching him. It would have to be enough.

“Dear, perhaps we should retire to your bedroom.”

Crowley nodded, though he wasn’t ready to leave Aziraphale’s arms just yet. Aziraphale continued to hold him and Crowley suspected it was as much for Crowley as it was for himself. Finally, Crowley reluctantly pulled away. He gave a small smile to Aziraphale who smiled back. Together, they gathered their wine glasses (miracling up any spills) and carefully stepped out of the conversation pit. Crowley led Aziraphale to his kitchen, to leave the glasses in the sink and put the bottle away. Then he led him to his bedroom. Unlike the rest of his apartment, his bedroom was dark. Black walls and hardwood floors. His large king-sized bed was covered in black sheets and a large black comforter. There were red blackout curtains over the windows.

“The white walls made it too difficult to sleep,” Crowley said, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s very you.”

Aziraphale took off his jacket and carefully hung it on the back of a chair in Crowley’s room. He then sat on the bed next to Crowley and carefully began to untie his shoes. Crowley shifted to sit against the headrest and watched as Aziraphale removed shoes and waistcoat before he moved to sit next to Crowley.

“Come here,” Aziraphale said, patting his thigh.

Crowley nodded and moved to lie down, his head resting on Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale combed his fingers through Crowley’s hair. He closed his eyes and slowly began to drift off to sleep. The warmth radiating off of Aziraphale was soothing and helped lull the demon to sleep. Before sleep fully took him, the last thing Crowley registered was Aziraphale humming softly to him.

**Author's Note:**

> 1The song was “Doing All Right” by Queen, the Bentley already attuned to her new favorite band who had only just recently released their first studio album a month prior. [ return to text ]
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr [@5ftjewishcactus](https://5ftjewishcactus.tumblr.com/) or on twitter on my main [@5ftjewishcactus](https://twitter.com/5ftjewishcatus) or on my sfw gen fandom [@2ambiace](https://twitter.com/2ambiace) or my dbh [@asexualhankcon](https://twitter.com/asexualhankcon).


End file.
